


Andrew Minyard Discovers the Secrets of Finding a Home

by wyoheartsmusic



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Andrew is thinking about and reflecting on things, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Exy, Fluff, Friendship, Happy Ending, M/M, POV Andrew Minyard, Post-Canon, Soft Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, canon-typical child abuse, the summary makes it sound terrible but i promise it really isn't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 03:49:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15477018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyoheartsmusic/pseuds/wyoheartsmusic
Summary: The first time Neil tells Andrew ‘no.’





	Andrew Minyard Discovers the Secrets of Finding a Home

**Author's Note:**

> Look at this, I'm back with my second Foxhole Court fic whoops and I dared to write Andrew's POV! I'm actually quite proud of it, I think
> 
> (It was actually so much fun to write Kevin omg, he's such a good bean I love him lmao)
> 
> Enjoy <3

Andrew didn’t understand it. How one game could get people this obsessed with it. He had felt a flicker of excitement for Exy last year during the final against the Ravens. Maybe even before that when Kevin had finally grown a spine and Andrew had joined him on the court for night practices.

But Andrew still didn’t understand. And maybe that was his own obsession. He’d be intrigued with other people’s interest in Exy until he had finally figured it out.

On the court, his teammates were celebrating. They’d made it to finals the second year in a row.

Andrew didn’t feel anything. He’d watched the game that he hadn’t been a part of with the same kind of boredom he was used to when it came to living his life.

He didn’t mind that he hadn’t been part of the game (and he wasn’t as arrogant as Kevin to insist that his team would have needed him even after they had won without him). In fact, he’d do it all over again if it came down to it.

In the Foxes’ last game, Andrew had gotten in a fight with a mouthy striker of the opposing team. Andrew had guarded his goal successfully, not allowing more than a careless shrug at the striker’s attempt, completely bored by the striker’s (quite pathetic) efforts.

It had riled the striker up in an almost amusing way and he had stormed at Andrew, barely stopping at the line that wasn’t to be crossed and was protecting Andrew as the goalie. Andrew had stared at him blankly as he spewed insults, not giving him the satisfaction of fighting back. There were ugly red splotches on the striker’s face that hadn’t just come from exerting himself on the court but from pure anger.

The situation had escalated after the striker had growled, “I bet you feel fucking safe right now, you fucking homo. But off the court, I’d _own_ you. You’d be begging for my mercy but not a single pathetic whimpered _please_ would help you.”

Andrew had spent years building his armour around him. Both physically and mentally. Not feeling anything had always protected him, his drug-induced mania had helped with that as well but it had only been a year since Easthaven and subsequently, Drake and _Proust_. 

Andrew still tried to shake off the nightmares that had flared up again afterwards and the striker’s words had brought him back to it all: five years old, prodding and pushing hands on him, panting breaths stale with alcohol against his skin and then seven years old, wary of his surroundings already at an age too young and too weak to retaliate; bruises that were overlooked and a rough voice at his ear, telling him to _beg_ while he was being held down.

A flash of red on his knuckles, his own heavy breaths in his ear and every single person that had ever dared lay a hand on him under him, trapped like Andrew had felt for way too long. At his mercy.

And then a flash of icy blue and a desperate call of, “Andrew!” that he ignored because there was the satisfying crunch of bones against his fists. Hands cupped his face but didn’t dare touch — a wise decision because Andrew would have ended whoever had touched him in that moment. The next time the voice had spoken up, it was much calmer, “Andrew. _Drew_ , come on, come back to me. You’re safe, you’re here. No one wants to hurt you. Look at me.”

So Andrew had done that, sinking into the blue of Neil’s eyes.

Everything was kind of blurry for Andrew on the matter.

Later, on the roof of Fox Tower, cigarettes dangling from their fingers and legs down the side of the building, Neil had told him about the red card because Andrew honestly couldn’t remember that or how it had happened. Andrew hadn’t cared enough to ask how they had managed to not get him pulled completely from the league. Faintly, he had wondered why he hadn’t been back to being drugged up again already like the last time he had attacked someone.

It wasn’t in Andrew’s nature to feel bad or ashamed about something he had done. Especially if it was something like this.

When he had been expected to publicly apologise to the striker for his “unwarranted” attack, it had been Matt who had spoken up for Andrew, having been close enough to hear the striker’s words and therefore had defended Andrew’s actions. While Andrew didn’t at all appreciate that kind of involvement — he was very much capable of fighting his own battles — it had gotten the ERC off his back so he hadn’t had to give an apology for something he’d just do all over again, probably as soon as he faced that particular striker again.

Andrew hadn’t given Matt a _thank you_ and Matt knew him well enough not to expect it. He looked back at the court, to said backliner who was still celebrating, ruffling Nicky’s hair and then he grinned broadly at Neil, who had scored the winning goal.

In a ridiculous show of victory, Matt and Neil stormed at each other, jumping in the air and knocking their chests together with a cheering roar leaving both their lips.

Except that the impact — and Matt’s sheer advantage at size and weight — shattered Neil’s equilibrium and he stumbled back, almost losing his footing.

Andrew’s fists balled at his sides and he was ready to rip Matt a new one for injuring Neil. He didn’t get up immediately though — which should be thanks enough for Matt.

And he relaxed again when Neil staggered a little against Renee who had caught him in time but a second later, he was laughing, bumping fists with Matt and burrowing into his side when the backliner wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

A little off to the celebration, Andrew spotted Kevin, fierce expression on his face and Andrew could tell exactly what was going on in his mind.

Dan reached out to punch Kevin in the shoulder, a teasing look in her eyes. Andrew didn’t hear through the court walls but he would bet all his money on her telling Kevin to loosen up a little, they had just won.

And Kevin’s condescending reply of, “This was a messy game. We can do better than this and it’s not like we’ve won the championship already.”

Andrew got bored by the display quickly and his eyes flickered back to Neil. He was joking around with Allison as they lined up to finally shake hands with the other team — something that seemed rather tedious to Andrew since no losing team would want to shake hands with the winning team that wore grossly large smiles about their victory.

In that moment, Neil turned his head to look over at Andrew. (Unsurprisingly, since he had this thing of always looking at Andrew.) Andrew held his gaze but rolled his eyes. He just wanted to get out of here.

Neil smiled broadly at him, mouthing, “You’re staring.” _Careful, people might think you like me,_ went unsaid.

God, Andrew hated him so much. Except—

Except.

Neil wasn’t a pipe dream. Or a hallucination of the drugs. He’d been there after Andrew had come off his drugs and he had _stayed_. After everything, Neil had stayed and he’d stay as long as he was wanted.

And that was— it was a problem, wasn’t it?

Because Andrew’s chest felt tight whenever he thought about it. About a future he hadn’t thought he’d ever have.

Neil looked at him and he saw _him_ and not a psychopath like everyone else. It was scary as hell. And Andrew had tried to shake off this _thing_ that was going on in his chest. With Neil. 

But it had been a year and Andrew still hadn’t gotten bored of Neil — or gotten rid of his traitorous heart whenever Neil simply looked at him.

The court doors opened and the Foxes poured out from the court in a splattering of orange, chattering and laughing.

Wymack congratulated his team and delegated Dan and Matt to handle the press, shooing the others off to the locker room for showers.

Neil stopped in front of Andrew, looking down at him where he was still sitting on the home bench. “You know, it wouldn’t hurt if you showed some semblance of excitement that we won,” He noted drily.

Andrew glared up at him, unimpressed. The tight feeling in his chest spread to his throat and he felt breathless when he choked out, “I love you, junkie.”

Neil’s eyes widened and he took a startled step back. The silence between them was charged and as if the smallest wrong movement could make it all burst. Neil shook his head, whispering, “ _No._ ” He recoiled even more, his smile turning into a painful grimace. “Andrew, no, don’t—“

Andrew froze. He couldn’t believe he had actually said that.

After everything that he knew about Neil. About _both_ their experiences with “love.”

The only kind of affection Neil had ever gotten was from his mother. And that love had always been inherently bad, something that came with bruises and yelling. Always running.

It showed in the way it had taken Neil so long to realise that the Foxes were his friends, and that they actually cared about him. That each of them would give their lives to protect him — Andrew knew he would.

And that _was_ love. It was never voiced but it showed in every single action, the small affectionate touches the upperclassmen and Nicky seemed so fond of, the way Kevin encouraged Neil’s obsession with Exy. In _you gave me a key and called it home._

But explicit love meant violence for Neil and the actual fear in his eyes made Andrew sick.

He had done that.

Andrew blinked rapidly, jerking himself out of it, back to reality.

Neil was smirking at him, waiting for Andrew’s undoubtedly sarcastic reply.

They didn’t need _I love you_ s. They already had that in a much purer form, one that wasn’t confined to three meaningless words. Words that meant a false sense of security, bruises and pain. “This is my excited face,” Andrew mocked, kicking his foot out against Neil’s shin.

It made Neil’s grin widen and he stepped forward to close that little bit of distance between them, still without touching Andrew. He was looming over Andrew but Andrew didn’t feel threatened.

And that was love, too.

Andrew’s heart was pounding in his chest. “Two-hundred percent,” Andrew said, “Going on two-hundred and one percent.”

Neil laughed and the corner of Andrew’s mouth twitched. “Let’s shower before Coach makes us run laps.”

Andrew stood up, chest to chest with Neil who had taken a step back so they still weren’t touching. They looked at each other for a moment before Andrew huffed, turning away from Neil. He brushed his pinky against Neil’s hand seemingly accidentally but Neil knew as well as Andrew did that none of his touches were ever accidental. 

The tight feeling in Andrew’s chest remained and he knew a sure way to get rid of it but that had to wait until he was alone with Neil in their dorm.

After the shower, Andrew went back to the locker room which was void of their other teammates except Neil.

They didn’t talk as they got dressed side by side. Andrew could barely breathe with how much he wanted to touch Neil.

Neil was efficient in dressing. Fast to hide the scars littering his body even when no one else but Andrew was around to see him. He zipped up his bag when Andrew was still only in his sweatpants. “Just do it,” Neil muttered, raising his eyebrows almost challengingly. A tiny smirk tugged on his lips, “Ask. If you want.”

Andrew growled, not wanting to give Neil that satisfaction. He flitted around, stuffing his things in his bag but too scatterbrained to really focus on it.

Next to him, Neil chuckled and Andrew hated him so much, he wanted to punch him.”Yes or no?” Andrew gritted out eventually, unable to hold back anymore.

With how fast Neil breathed out, “ _Yes._ ” it seemed he had waited to spit that simple, yet so important word out.

Andrew gripped Neil’s wrists and pulled him down, straddling Neil on the bench. When they finally kissed, it was hot and heavy, the tightness in his chest slowly dissipating.

They didn’t have a lot of time, they were the last two in the locker room already and Wymack wouldn’t let them hang around much longer so Andrew delved into the kiss as long as he could, eventually letting go of Neil’s wrists in order to sneak his hands under Neil’s shirt, spreading his fingers across Neil’s ribs and the jagged skin there.

It took Neil a moment to realise that Andrew had released him but when that had settled in, he lifted his hands to bury them in Andrew’s hair instead.

There was a pointed sound of a door closing somewhere out of sight and Andrew saw it as his sign to break away from Neil. “Junkie,” He whispered against his lips before standing up. Maybe he was talking more about himself than Neil at this point.

Neil grinned at him like he knew exactly that.

Andrew’s jaw worked, his hand distractedly brushing over his still bare chest. “Give me your away jersey,” He demanded monotonously.

“What do you want with that?” Neil asked, frustratingly oblivious.

Andrew hated him. He wasn’t gonna voice his brain’s stupid need of having _something_ of Neil close to him when he couldn’t head back to their dorm immediately and just kiss him for the rest of the night — the upperclassmen probably wanted some kind of celebration of their victory and because Neil got just as stupidly delirious about a game won, he’d want to join them. Pointedly, he looked down at his exposed chest. He wasn’t gonna spell it out for Neil.

Neil did this thing where he fucking blushed when understanding dawned on him and Andrew just glared at him and his retreating back as he fetched the jersey for Andrew. He ignored Neil’s grin when he snatched the jersey from him, his thumb briefly brushing against the **JOSTEN** printed on the back before he pulled it on. The soft material stretched a bit over his shoulders since he was broader than Neil but otherwise it fit well. 

“Don’t look at me like that, Josten,” He warned. What seemed like a lifetime ago, he had said he wasn’t Neil’s answer and Neil wasn’t his. Andrew wasn’t sure why he was thinking of that now —why his brain supplied that maybe Neil was after all.

Neil looked mostly smug but also a little bit in awe and when he raised his hand slowly — always giving Andrew the chance to stop him — to trace the **10** on his jersey, Andrew didn’t tense at the contact.

Their moment was interrupted eventually when Matt peeked his head into the changing room and said apologetically, “Coach has been adding laps for you for ever minute longer it takes you to finally get out of here for the past ten minutes.”

Andrew had taken a step away from Neil as soon as he had noticed Matt but Neil’s hand was still loosely twisted in the jersey. Matt luckily didn’t comment on it. “We’ll be out in a second,” Andrew told him gruffly, dismissively.

Matt got the cue and left them alone again.

“I hate you,” Andrew muttered at Neil, gaze flickering from his eyes to his lips for a second, “Every inch of you.” It rolled off his tongue easy and familiar.

Neil smirked. “Every time you say that I believe you a little less,” He shot back just as easily.

They didn’t need _I love you_ s if they had this instead. The comfortable, safe weight of whatever this was. Andrew smiled at Neil and it turned into a smirk when Neil’s expression morphed into disbelief, Andrew smiling still catching him off guard every rare time he did it. Involuntarily, his hand slid from Andrew’s chest up to his face where he poked his thumb into the dimple on Andrew’s left cheek.

Andrew indulged him for just a second before he turned away to meet the others outside. His head was whirring with too many thoughts, the most prominent being that he really did love Neil and that they had found a home in each other. But his expression remained a scowl when he faced the other Foxes who were excitedly discussing party plans.

Back at the Fox Tower, they ended up in the girls’ suite. Some freshmen had followed them but luckily, Jack wasn’t part of that since he seemed to have a vendetta against Neil and Andrew really wasn’t in the mood for killing anyone tonight.

He sat down on the couch with Nicky and Aaron quickly joining him there, which left Neil taking a spot on the ground, between Andrew’s legs and his back against the couch. It was only a moment before Neil wrapped his fingers around Andrew’s ankle, a ginger touch that he could have easily escaped from if he wanted to.

Andrew didn’t want to.

His own hand rested casually against his knee where he was inching closer and closer to the back of Neil’s head. They weren’t big on PDA so he hoped none of this caught anyone’s attention but their teammates were busy talking over each other and getting everyone supplied with alcohol and snacks.

When Dan put down some chocolates on the coffee table, Andrew immediately leaned over Neil to grab one, popping it in his mouth and when he leaned back against the sofa, his fingers were tangled in the curls at the nape of Neil’s neck. Andrew’s pinky reached out to trace the shell of Neil’s ear and Neil put pressure on Andrew’s ankle in reply.

Soon enough, the conversation turned to Exy. It wasn’t surprising since that was the one thing all of them had in common and was still the easiest thing to talk about between the upperclassmen and Andrew’s lot.

Kevin kept trying to bring up the mistakes they had made but neither of the others was having any of that, drowning him out with chants of, “We won! We won! We’re in the final!” After a while, Kevin just pouted, not saying anything anymore.

“But have you seen Neil’s last goal? That was so epic!” Nicky exclaimed, reaching out to jostle Neil a little.

Everyone agreed — except Kevin of course. If Andrew didn’t know him so well, he’d think Kevin got a boner out of objecting everything anyone had to say. As it was, Kevin only ever got a boner for Exy. “It was risky and stupid,” Kevin growled.

“Shut up, Queen,” Nicky hollered at the same time that Matt said, “Fuck off! A goal’s a goal. And an epic goal is the best!”

Kevin, apparently, had found a new strength to argue his teammates and gritted out, “It could have cost us our second-best starting striker!”

“The _very best_ being Kevin, of course,” Allison stage-whispered through giggles.

“Shut up, Kevin,” Dan repeated, “Just let us have this night of victory? We can talk game at practice tomorrow.”

Kevin seemed to want to keep arguing but Andrew tugged a cushion free from the couch and smacked him in the face with it, effectively silencing him.

The room fell silent for a second before they all burst into laughter at Kevin’s absolutely betrayed expression and Andrew’s bored one.

Neil craned his neck to look up at Andrew, smiling toothily at him. Andrew pinched his ear in warning but quickly got distracted by the way Neil’s throat was exposed to him and he _really_ wished they could get out of there right now.

They stayed, though. Andrew would never admit it but he was almost content like this: munching away on chocolates and having Neil close, both in their own worlds with Neil discussing the freshmen’s progress with the others and Andrew just watching Neil. When the topic finally changed to something not Exy-related, Andrew was relieved but he still didn’t participate in the conversation.

He focused on drawing nondescript patterns against Neil’s neck with his fingers, his free hand brushing over his mouth to wipe away the smirk that was trying to escape when a shiver rippled through Neil that he tried to suppress. His neck fetish was appalling. Andrew kept drawing, occasionally tugging on Neil’s hair a little and he started counting the shivers running through him. When goosebumps appeared on his skin, Andrew knew they would leave soon.

However, before that happened, Allison directed at Andrew, “You can take the last chocolate if you want, monster.” Andrew wasn’t sure when that nickname had started sounding more fond than condescending and he was even less sure if he liked that.

His gaze met Allison’s and they stared at each other for a moment, calculating. Somewhere along the line, “family” had expanded to the upperclassmen as well even when Andrew used to hate that word and the implication of what it meant. It was still rough with the upperclassmen, would probably always be, but they had re-defined family and love for each other and maybe that was okay with Andrew.

Andrew nodded curtly at Allison. He leaned over Neil to reach for the chocolate on the table, his hand sliding from Neil’s neck around to his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart under his palm.

“Can we leave?” Neil whispered up at Andrew and the answering _yes_ fell from his lips easily.

Because they didn’t need love but it would always be _yes_ for Andrew as well when it came to Neil.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to hear your thoughts on this. Leave me a comment or come talk to me on tumblr @julian-dahl <3  
> Thank you for reading!


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